This somewhat disorganized piece is dedicated to Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, July 18, 1937 - February 20, 2005. Although I am only now delving into his sometimes-psychedelic world mixed with a genius talent, I have realized something else besides his down-played, self-abasing fame. I learned that through the human imagination, you and I can sit quietly and unlock our hidden power locked inside our imaginary vehicle, travel back in time to right the wrongs, tell that smart mouthed know-it-all what we really think all without any thought of legal ramifications, jury trials and prison.

A back-note about today's prison atmosphere: Sure, most of our prison's have a visible violent atmosphere--the tension is thicker than a professional politician or madam's lies. Both are pretty good in the keen ability to tell anyone a perfect lie at anytime, anywhere, about anyone or anything. Professionals like certain politicans and madam's are so proficient at telling the perfect lie that they can easily retire at age 33 and live a long, fruitful live behind mansion doors made from imported Lebanon cedars.

This narrative is both heartfelt and loose tongued--this phrase, "loose tongued," used to imply people who drink heavily and try to talk or in this case, write. Wrong. I only said this because it sounded good to me. But now to turn serious, I will unleash my newly-found powers of the Inner-Truth Vehicle and travel back in time to May 1972, toward the first moments that I graduated with my five true friends in a class of 110 classmates in our new gymnasium made possible in 1969 by Lurleen Wallace, wife of Segregationist Governor, George Wallace, who was limited in his gubernatorial terms, so being the sly politician with the slick black hair and pointed tongue, convinced Lurleen to run. Oh, she not only ran, but embarrassed her four male opponents leaving them in the dust as it was said in The Birmingham News in the aftermath of her landslide.

In the opening of this first-person narrative, I mentioned the superbly-talented, the late Dr. Hunter S. Thompson and my high school graduation in the latter part of May 1972. I conjoured up the spirit of Dr. Thompson who was busy writing scathing pieces about the Culture of The After Life, and asked him to accompany me in this first-ever type of journey ever. Hey, I needed someone to drive my Inner Truth Vehicle and if you think that Marty McFly's Deloran (Back to The Future, 1985) was fast, then Marty's car makes mine look like a broken-down '55 Buick sitting on some highway in northern Alabama. Probably the fault of a blown head gasket.

When I get back to May 1972, and the virgin moments of my graduation, there are a few select people (I used this term loosely) whom I want to make some things right and get them to hear the things that has stewed inside my spirit for over 40 plus years. Enough is enough. What harm could me facing these "people" (I really meant to say jerks) and telling them how they treated me now it affected me since 1972. What can they do? Nothing. None of them are employed as lawyers, teachers, or common laborers.

The first jerk whom I want to see is a guy named Steve. For sake of legalities, there was this guy named Steve whom I first met in second grade, 1962, at then Hamilton Grammar School. He was then like he was throughout school: a jerk inside and out. From the unfounded slurs that he aimed at me, to that sick Hyena's laugh. Sickening. He even looked jerkish. His parents were good folks. And lived in the city of Hamilton, but that I never held against them. And I am very sure that Steve-O's parents never sat him down and taught him how to be nasty toward students whom are not from a city home. Nope. Ol' Stevie did that all by himself. And the thing was, he only grew more jerky in the years to come.

If I were to go back and meet him the first thing that I would ask him is: Steve, what did I ever do to you? Be honest, if you can. Remember in years to come, you will marry a pretty cheerleader one grade ahead of you and your life will be rosy for a few years and then you will discover that your pretty cheerleader wife has been sleeping with a convict on a Work Release Program and both of them run away. Awwww. I really hate it.

I don't subscribe to Karma, Instant (released by John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band) or otherwise. What I do subscribe to is what the Bible says about "whatsoever a man sows, that he shall also reap." You see, Stevie, you became an aggressor toward me simply because I came from a poor background and made fun of that most all of the time. And the painful thing was: I took it. Even the teachers knew you were a jerk and looked the other way.

If you had been mentally-challenged, I would have overlooked it, but you were smart, even athletic. I won't go into how you ended up living with your mom serving you hand and foot. I think that justice has been served. If I had wanted to write Yoko Ono's name mingled with John and the Plastic Ono Band, I would have put it there, but I didn't deem it worth the trouble.

The second person whom I'd like to meet and chat with for a few minutes would be (a) Rodney; Johnny; Karen and their gang. City children with parents who had money. I would ask them the same thing: Why did you run everything in our years in school? Why? Was it a turn-on for you? Or did you enjoy taking over and depriving me and those of my background the joy of taking part? I never said taking ALL, just part. Why? Would you humor me and just tell me. I want to know. Oh, I see (a) Johnny in this gang. Why are you looking sad and at the tops of your shoes? You and your pretty wife are going to be successful and live in a big town eastward of Hamilton, Ala., where you are a noted trial lawyer, so you are the one who I need to ask my question of why did you think it necessary to walk us (like Steve) as if we were dirt? I hope you can tell me the truth, but "we" the poor kids did not want to take over your place of entitlement, no, sir. We just wanted to be considered a part of the class. Notice: a "part."

Then I would approach (a) Susie and two other girls who loved to make fun of me. Why? I cannot tell you. But Susie, years later, went on to be a county government official and then left her office and we never knew why. But in our adulthood's, she would always tell me how good of a friend that I was to her. But not at the only class reunion I attended. Susie and her friend, who shall remain nameless, made open fun at me and I never provoked them. So it is up to you to tell me why?

And to the teachers from 1961 through 1972, why did you, the adults see the students like me, poor, and from a poor background, some like me had parents who had to work so we could eat, let the city students get by with assassinating our character and you only laughed? I guess you can say that "we" became bitter and displaced in your world. But the truth is, "we" were the first Caucasian Black People in 1962, to ever segregate your City School System. Tough, but true. I wished many times when the time came and the African-American students were forced to attend our high school that I was one of them. They were looked at a whole lot better than you teachers did us.

I have lived on the faith that when all of humanity stands before the All-Knowing God on His White Throne of Judgment, and the books are opened, every person's life will be just that--an open book to every act, bad and good we did and how you teachers made us poverty-laden children be treated better than some of your house dogs. And even the rich hunters in the bunch who bred and raised expensive hunting dogs. "We" did not matter.

So with the confrontations finished and people whom I wanted to ask a few questions over, I find myself standing in a silent gymnasium in 1972 and not hearing anything but the almost-muted heartbeats by me and the elite classmates who made the lives of the poor students and myself miserable. Just by answering one question: Why?

And even as one or two of you start to open your mouth, as stupid as you thought that "we" were, at least we knew enough to know how to read the face of a liar before he speaks. And you might as well keep your mouths shut.

I have not the time or strength to listen to the lies you told us and endured the suffering you put us through over the years. I hope that this time around . . .things might be better. What do you say?

Comments

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sending

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

Dear Ann,

and I do mean, DEAR!

Thank you so very much for your sweet/moving comment.

These topics rattle around in my memories until the time that it is prudent that I get them published.

Ann, you are A Terrific Friend and Follower as well as a Very Talented Writer.

Love U.

Ann Carr 3 months agofrom SW England

No need to apologise and no way should you feel ashamed. You always appreciate your readers and that's great.

Just keep writing and entertaining!

Ann

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

Dear Ann,

I am without words, fitting enough to express how deeply that I appreciate YOU.

I mean it. With all of my fiber.

You are such a dear and good friend. I feel so ashamed of myself for not telling you this enough. I apologize.

You are definitely one of my Closest and Dearest friend in Hubville.

No doubt.

Kenneth

Write anytime.

Ann Carr 3 months agofrom SW England

This is powerful. Bullying is usually done by those who are insecure or have no self-esteem. They're given everything but can't find their niches in life, nor do they usually find true friends. They usually get their comeuppance but, sadly, not always.

Those who do not retaliate are much better than the bullies.

Good piece, Kenneth.

PS: You taught me a new word 'gubernatorial' - thank you!

Ann

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

God Bless You,

sr nancy ruth,

Spoken like someone who not shared what I wrote it, but lived it. And you provided a litany of legitimate points which I do appreciate.

I appreciate you following me---in a few days, I am emailing you a personal Thank You note just for taking time to follow me.

God bless you and keep in touch.

sr nancy ruth 3 months agofrom New York, New York

I had a rough time in school too because of my poverty and shyness. I have never been to a reunion or a homecoming and probably never will. I've always wondered why those popular, well-liked kids found it impossible to leave me alone or ignore me. I still wonder why popular, well-liked kids are bullies and cruel to those who are defenseless. I can hold on to the hurt and resentment they engendered in me or I can let it go and learn from it. I choose to learn. I've learned that I can survive without money so that I don't live in fear of its loss. I've learned that I am my own best companion so I won't do feel obligated to do things against my conscience just so that I won't be alone. I've learned that forgiveness is freeing so I won't get ulcers from the bitterness they tried to instill and I've learned that those who tormented me are also tormented. I hope that you can forgive them--not for them--for yourself. Forgiveness is about you and your peace, not theirs. God Bless.

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

Hello, Robert,

Three things:

1.) Thank you for your very wise comment. My friend, you ARE a very wise man. I say that with sincerity. I can sense it in every comment you have given me.

2.) Had some of the molasses you sent me. Ate it with a biscuit for breakfast--took my sweet time. (Pun intended).

3.) I suppose if I did give this time, the resentment I feel for these people, time will always take care of it at day's end.

Thanks, Robert and all here who commented.

Love you all.

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

Hey, whonunuwho,

I am happy for you and how those oppressors got theirs when it was all over.

You are right. Good always comes out on top and I guess that my main worry is time. No. Impatience on my part.

But I would like to get a civil dialogue started with them and just see how many of them (now) would own what they did to my friends and me back then.

And see how many of them would instantly plead stupidity and act as if they didn't know what I was talking about.

Just a thought.

Keep in touch.

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

Hey, kaungzawhieniej ,

With all due respect to your remark, no, sir. "Funny" is far from what I really feel inside for these plastic people.

But thanks for your input.

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

Hey, Kari,

You said it, sweet friend. You may think that I am singling-out these uppity people, but to my knowledge I cannot recall any of them ever treating my friends who were like me. And when I think this, I get depressed and resentful all over again.

One guy whom I tried to like and I did try to like him, acts like he doesn't know my name today.

And I won't go any further on things that he did for it would not do me any good.

Write me soon.

Author

Kenneth Avery 3 months agofrom Hamilton, Alabama

Hi, RoadMonkey,

You are so right. I never thought about the end result of actually confronting these "people" back in the first moments of my graduation.

Yep. I am sure that I would be depressed for telling these how I really felt and hate myself and I do not want to go that path.

Kari Poulsen 3 months agofrom Ohio

Some people can not feel good about themselves unless they are putting someone else down. I tend to pity these people because somehow they learned that they are not good enough.

Fiddleman 3 months ago

Kenneth I guess people are all the same by their inherent nature. Those who always looks down on those of us who weren’t as well to do or whose parents were not cotton mill trash. I attended my 50th high school reunion recently and was amazed how time has made a change. Most of us in that class are knocking on Biblical threescore and ten. Funnily how that one truth brings perspective. Those who always had a nice car,wore Maddress shirts and wejan shoes had finally realized they weren’t any better than us who worked our butts off to buy an old car, cut a load or two of pulp wood, picked apples or were somehow blessed to work for the neighborhood youth Corp to earn our way. Time heals all wounds.

kaungzawhieniej 3 months ago

Yep it is funny

whonunuwho 3 months agofrom United States

It's funny Kenneth. Those son-of-a-guns who tried to hurt me all got their come-upens in the end and I did not turn one finger. The good always triumphs my friend. Blessing. whonu

RoadMonkey 4 months ago

Going back in time this way to confront those people and things that have continued to feel hurtful over the years can be helpful IF you can find some way to release the log jam of feelings about this that has been stored up. BUT it can also take quite a while to overcome the resultant flood when the logjam releases. I was on a training course one time when something like that happened to me. I think it took me 6 months of depression to get over it and depression was something I had never suffered from. I think it made me a better person but it wasn't something I volunteered for!